A sharp glint of light came from the edges of the halberds crossed before Corco's face.

“Lords and Ladies! Your Majesty! Now, for the grand attraction of the evening!”

Under the flamboyant voice of Bombasticus from beyond the door, Corco stared into the polished axe heads before him.

“However, first I will ask your majesty to pick a card. Any from within this ordinary deck will do.”

It was soon time for his grand entry, so the prince decided to go over his appearance one final time. The halberd reflected back the new look he had been sporting for half a year. Whitened, clean shaven skin and black hair to his shoulders, parted down the middle and slicked back.

“Please do not show the card to me or anyone else. It will serve as proof of the medium's authenticity.”

His wear was somewhat crooked, so Corco grabbed the hem of his shirt to reorganize a bit. The tailor-made suit was something he was especially fond of, a style of clothing from the other world. For his purpose, it was perfect. Strange enough on Arcavia to give an air of mystery, but the elegant design and expensive fabric distinguished him from the bright, patchy colors of common traveling folk. He would rather not be accused of eating children by an enraged mob, so they had spent a great deal on their appearances, to not be mistaken for entertainers.

“Thus, please allow me to introduce: The great medium, the seer of seers, the Great Master Corcopaca Fastgrade!”

Without sound, the halberds before him slid to the side. Corco followed them with his gaze until he locked eyes with one of the two grumpy guards who had barred his way until now. A short wink towards the guard and he was off to the fruits of their labor, the high court of Eniila.

A great bit of smoke and noise obscured his entrance as he traveled over the raw sandstone floor of the hall. Kneeled by the door, Brym was throwing firecrackers again to make the medium's entrance more spectacular. At least this room didn't have any flammable furniture. That kind of oversight had almost cost them dearly back in Cahlia. With upright posture, hands held behind his back and large, swift strides, Corco stepped through the ill-smelling clouds and soon found himself in front the collected lords and ladies of Eniila, seated on comfortable looking, deep chairs set up in a neat row. Small tables had been fastened to the chairs, to house the food and drink the great nobles would enjoy during their time of leisure. Corco found no throne, despite the room being a supposed court.

“Your majesty has chosen the five of kings, truly a choice befitting of a noble heir.” Before anyone could say a word, Corco opened up to give his prediction. He wouldn't want to be accused of cheating again, so the prince had cut down on the theatrics when he had refined his performance over the past months. The result was exactly as desired.

King Sabian's eyes turned into slits from his smile as he nodded in satisfaction. The man's white-streaked chin beard left his face uncovered and made it easy to read his emotions. Good, that could be useful later. After his approval, the king revealed the card in his hand to his surroundings. Five kings were printed on the paper. In recent years, printing machines had been getting more and more wide-spread all throughout Arcavia. With the increased availability of paper and printed materials, playing cards had similarly spread across the fourty-four nations of Arcavia and become a favorite past time of the rich and high born.

“Truly, as expected from the mysterious medium of the west. We have heard great tales.”

Of course the king would be happy. In Arcavia, the number five was linked with great prosperity. Paired up with the suit of kings it was truly a good omen. Corco still preferred the more abstract suits in his memories, like spades and diamonds, but for their purposes, the more expressive cards were even more useful. Although Bombasticus had spent a lot of time learning how to force a card onto someone without their knowledge, it had been worth it. To the man's dismay, the alchemist had a natural talent for stage tricks. He would have to bear with the humiliation. After all, that was the deal they had struck back in Etra.

“No need for undue praise, your majesty. Not until the actual reading has taken place.”

A snort disguised as a laugh interrupted the harmonious atmosphere. A younger noble, seated close to the king, had his arms crossed and a frown on his face. He also had an entirely different opinion from everyone else.

“A cheap trick, nothing more. How would the word of a charlatan have any weight within the high court?”

The king's frown barely registered with Corco, as did the shocked looks of the other nobles. He was already focused on the disturbance, looking for points of attack. Young and strong, with a beard similar to the king's. His posture was forward leaning, which gave an aggressive impression. His clothing and hair were a bit unkempt, at least for a member of nobility. Corco spotted the emerald ring hung from a chain around his neck, a typical symbol of martial might around these parts, and usually worn on the finger, unless it was a memento. It would be a good start.

“Milord, if this charlatan may, before I am thrown from this noble hall, I have a message to deliver to you.” Corco answered before the angry king could. He would rather keep the atmosphere happy.

“Hah! Try your worst, trickster! Valtr of Kaneas will not be fooled!”

Corco retained his shallow smile as he made a mental note of the name. Another bit of information to be used. He had tried cold reading, the art of pretending knowledge, before. After a good bit of practice, he had gotten a basic handle on things. He was by no means an expert, but usually his appearance, assured attitude and the wide-spread superstition of the people did most of the work anyways.

“In my dream last night appeared a man. He said that to lord Valtr, he was... a father figure of sorts.”

A sneer formed on the man's face.

“That's all? As I said, parlor tricks, no more. Who was the man, if I may ask the great medium?”

“He would not tell me his name, but I could see a darkness in his torso... his chest or abdomen. It must have been the cause of his death.”

Upon hearing the word 'abdomen', Valtr's sneer turned into a frown.

Abdomen it is.

Another mental note.

“The man told me... that he understood how Milord was still lost in grief over the loss, every now and then. He knew there are many things Milord would want to apologize for or clear up.”

The frown slowly disappeared from the man's face as his eyes widened in shock.

Bullseye.

“However, he wishes Milord to know that despite his actions during his lifetime, there has only ever been love in his heart. He asks Lord Valtr to move on with life and live without regrets.”

“Uncle...” the noble whispered, more to himself than to anyone else, as tears welled up in his eyes.

Too easy.

The shocked lords and ladies within the hall broke out in applause as Corco bowed to conclude his trick. The king himself seemed especially impressed.

“Truly magnificent! A true seer, as told in the stories.”

Corco retained his shameless smile. Of course there would be stories. He had paid good money for the bards to spread them throughout the continent.

“I hope your majesty has heard nothing shameful.”

“Of course not. Who would dare speak poorly of a great man like yourself? Though there was one tale in particular which grabbed our interest.” The king picked up his wine goblet and swirled it in his hand while he looked down into the golden liquid within. Corco's smile grew wider, only by a fraction. This was what he had been hoping for.

“And which one would that be, your majesty?” he asked in anticipation.

“There has been tale of a heavenly drink, a wine of the gods.” He looked back up from his wine and towards Corco, who still stood there with perfect posture, unfazed before all the great personages of the country. The tricks and lies had been the easiest part of their performances. The stage fright had almost killed him though. Luckily, after six months and fifteen different courts, he had finally begun to get a handle on his nerves. It had only been barons or counts so far, but now he could steady his mind even before a king.

“Indeed Milord, it is the truth. It happened almost a year ago, on the night of the winter solstice. I looked into my wine and what did I see there?” Corco began to spin his story, “My master Gerrit was within, and he spoke to me. How could this be? Master had already died! Frightened I was, a mere commoner, face to face with a man from beyond the grave! It would be my first vision of many.”

Corco thought back to the time Count Barno's troops, disguised as merchants, had passed them off after their performance the city. Atau really shouldn't have slept with the guy's daughter, but his reaction was still excessive, as far as Corco was concerned. The ensuing battle and escape was the closest they had come to death on their travels. It had left a deep scar on Corco's courage, as well as his left shoulder blade. Luckily, the crossbow bolt had been nothing more than a brush with fate. If 'fate' had pierced him instead, he would've had one hand less to do card tricks with. As always, the prince evoked the right memory for the occasion. It made it easy for him to elicit a feeling of dread on his face, perfect for the scene.

“However, master had come not come out of malice, but out of kindness instead, like so often in his time. He had come to regale to the unworthy commoner tales from the beyond. Of life among the stars, life under the five great sons of Arcavus... and he told of a heavenly drink, a grape of the finest sort, watered with fresh moon dew and grown on a mound of gold, only fit for the noblest of men to enjoy.”

Corco thought back to the wonder he had felt the first time he had seen, and smelled, the endless fields of lavender around his mother's home of Saniya, and he thought back to the eternal glimmer of the stars from the top of the holy Mount Urquna. Within the infinite universe, his own trivial nature alone was enough to make him feel reverential awe, but the thoughts still helped him adjust his mood.

“And master told me as well that he had been sent by the Lords. Sent to spread the message across the gap, into the realm of living men, so all children of Arcavus could partake in their heavenly splendor. Suddenly, I could smell a fragrance far beyond the mortal world within my hands. I looked down and found that my wine had turned into the wine of the gods, a true miracle! It was a drink beyond what man should know to achieve! My master's ghost told of instructions, methods to produce the drink, a kind gift from the Lords to their heirs. When I first followed the steps, I produced a drink far beyond any wine I had tasted before. Even still I wept, for I knew that what I had drunk on the night of the solstice was far beyond any taste I could achieve in a lifetime. Still, I would devote my very being to the trade of brewery, determined to improve the noble craft, reach as close as I could to the vision my master imbued in me that day. Only then would I go and spread the splendor of Arcavus across the lands of the earth.”

Corco did his best to retain a pious look on his face. He didn't really like Arcavism too much. Not their fanatical practices nor their penchant for deifying their dead rulers. Still, he had to pretend. Arcavism was quite literally the religion of the nobility in these parts. The same nobles would also be his main clientele going forward. If he had to blaspheme some gods to make his product more appealing, at least he could do it to the fake gods of Arcavia.

“As I travel the lands, in search for the perfect ingredients, I keep improving my results, while I use my miraculous connection with the beyond to support the honorable lords of Arcavia in their duties as best as I can.”

“Truly a miracle.” the smiling king nodded, “We are quite curious: How far has Master Fastgrade gone in his attempts? How close to the final product would Master be by now?”

Corco lowered his head, as he pretended a shy smile.

“Indeed, just this week I have managed to complete one batch to minimal satisfaction. Though it is imperfect, still far from the miracle of the Gods it can be deemed enough to proudly present to their heirs. It is the only reason I would dare stand before your majesty today.”

“So it is done?” The king leaned forward in his seat, the goblet still in his hand.

“Who else would be more suitable to judge the quality of the Lord's Wine than the great king Sabian IV.?”

“Outstanding!” The king's goblet slammed onto the chair's armrest and sprayed its golden contents over the bread and meat on the attached table. “Quick, bring it forth, this drink of the Lords. We will see if it truly lives up to its reputation.”

“At once, your majesty. Brym!” Corco turned to look at his ward, who had parked himself in the back of the room since he had livened up Corco's entrance. In his hands he clutched a large travel bag, filled with all kinds of props for their magic acts and, most importantly, with their first batch of brandy.

“Yes, Master!” The boy answered with the energy only youth could bring.

“Bring the brandy,” Corco smiled. Six month storage, with a mellowed bouquet. It was the reason they had finally dared to step before a king. He would be their first free advertising board, with many more to follow. Finally, after six months of work, their marketing would pay off. Soon, it would be harvest season.